Asks if I am
looking up her skirt.
Then asks
why not.
“I see...! ”
I say
“Want to see some
more? ”
She smilingly entices.
“Oh, I do...I do! ”
I blurt out as if I were
marrying it.
She displays herself
in all her lovely lusciousness
as if she were
presenting a precious
treasure.
I gasp.
“Gasp! ”
“Fine...so...fine! ”
I manage to exclaim.
“Is that all? ”
says she.
“No...! ”
says I.
“Faighin! ”
is the Irish for it.
“May I now
kiss the bride? ”
I ask.
“You are divine! ”
she whispers
so softly
even I can hardly hear
only understanding
by reading
her lips.
Dónall Dempsey
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-irish-for-it/
